


Wash it All Away

by EnsignCelery



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mind Meld, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnsignCelery/pseuds/EnsignCelery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme Prompt: "Spock has a fascination with watching Kirk piss, which develops into an obsession/fetish. Kirk picks up on Spock's interests and suggests piss play. Since Vulcans are desert dwellers, watersports is even more taboo for Spock than it is in human society but that only adds to the appeal. (No piss drinking, please. Pref. Spock's the one getting pissed on.)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wash it All Away

Spock ripped his hand away from the meld position immediately following the thought, immediately after the thought had brought him to a rather strong and sudden completion, but the damage had already been done. It was highly unlikely that Jim had not seen the image, the scenario that had played through the Vulcan’s head at the peak of their lovemaking, at the peak of their emotional connection through the meld.

Jim, after being released from the meld, crashed gracelessly atop him, his own climax still ripping through him as he gasped desperately into Spock’s neck. He lay a small kiss on the skin under Spock’s ear as he finally regained his breath and drew back, smiling softly down at his lover.

“You’re shaking, Spock,” he said quietly, after a moment of staring down at the man in question.

“Forgive me, Jim,” Spock responded, averting his eyes. They both knew what he was apologizing for, but…

“For what, Spock?” 

Spock returned his gaze to the man propped above him. Jim’s eyes held an odd expression in relation to their current conversation. It was an expression of surprise and curiosity, not the revulsion that Spock had imagined a dozen times over when he had pictured this conversation.

“You are not,” he paused to draw in a breath. His voice was not shaking, and neither were his limbs. He willed them to be still. “You are not disgusted by what you saw?”

“Disgusted?” Jim sounded incredulous, looking down at Spock with wide, serious eyes. “Spock, _nothing_ about you could ever disgust me. If you feel that participating in some form of… _sexual exploration_ will help you enjoy sex a little more, I’m fine with it. Isn’t it,” and here he paused to smirk down at his lover, his eyes shining this time with the mischief and delight that Spock had long since learned to love about him, “ _logical_ to want to let my lover experience as much pleasure as he can during sex?”

“But, Jim…”

“No buts!” Jim exclaimed, placing a hand over the Vulcan’s mouth and grinning widely. “I love you, alright? Nothing about you would ever disgust me. _Ever_. Now,” he murmured as he drew back to sit on his knees, straddling Spock’s shins as did so, “I don’t know exactly how to go about this sort of thing. It’s not really something I’m all that into, y’know? But…”

“If it does not interest you, then we should not discuss it,” Spock said firmly. The tips of his ears felt as if they were burning.

“No, no! We’re discussing it,” Jim said with just a hint of playfulness in his tone. The seriousness still shone through, though, in both his words and his expression, silencing any protest that the Vulcan had been thinking up. “Let me finish, okay?” A sharp nod. “Okay. So, like I said, I’m not really into it, but I could be. I like making you feel good, Spock, in any way that I can.” He paused to get up from his position over Spock, allowing the other man to draw himself into a cross-legged position across from him, making Jim smile at the green flush across his cheeks. “So, tell me, Spock—and please be honest, because I can promise you that you aren’t going to freak me out or anything—what about urine turns you on, exactly?”

Spock hesitated for a moment, dropping his eyes in what he could only identify as _embarrassment_ before forcing his gaze back up to meet that of his lover’s. Those piercing blue eyes were staring back at him softly, blinking away sweat that was still cooling from their earlier exertion. Jim’s relaxed posture, Spock could tell, was deliberate, forcing a calm into the room that Spock was grateful for. Jim knew he was embarrassed, but he did not want him to be. Spock took a breath.

“I find the scent of it appealing,” he said softly, holding Jim’s gaze as he spoke. “I find the scent of _you_ to be appealing. More than this, I am tempted by the idea of being claimed. In many species, the act of urinating is a way to mark a possession, a way to claim a mate for oneself. This was not so on Vulcan because the wasting of water in any way, by any species, would have been illogical on a planet where water was so scarce. But, I have found that this attracts me even more to the idea.”

After a moment of silence where Jim realized that Spock had finished his speech, Jim nodded in acknowledgement. He closed his eyes slowly; his lashes fluttered in concentration as he took the information in and considered it. Spock resisted the urge to hold his breath as he waited for Jim to speak.

“You want me to mark you? To claim you?”

Jim still hadn’t opened his eyes. Spock swallowed before responding.

“I believe that the idea of being marked by you is part of what draws me to the idea,” he agreed.

Jim let his head fall back limply, leaning heavily back on his outstretched arms. Spock let out a huff of breath at the action and again looked away, willing himself to not be disappointed. His lover had seemed so understanding. But, of course he had no desire to participate in such a disgusting act. He…

Suddenly, Jim was sitting up straight, crossing his legs in a way that mimicked Spock’s own posture. There was an ear to ear grin on his face and merriment once again dancing in his eyes. Spock blinked at him in surprise, which Jim apparently understood to be the Vulcan equivalent of open-mouthed gaping if his widening grin was any indication.

“Alright, then!” Jim said, slapping his hands over his knees and leaning just the slightest bit closer. “Did you want to try this now, or save it for tomorrow night?”

“Jim?”

He reached forward with one hand, cupping Spock’s head and dragging it forward until their foreheads touched, looking directly into soft brown eyes that shone with more emotion than Jim could process. He nuzzled their noses together briefly before bringing his other arm up and wrapping them both around the Vulcan’s neck.

“I told you, Spock,” he said with a soft nudge of the face, “that nothing about you will ever disgust me. I want to know everything about you, and I want to try everything with you that you want to try. If me pissing on you will bring you enjoyment, then I’m going to try it and see if I enjoy it, too. We aren’t on Vulcan, Spock, and I’m not someone who’s going to look down on your or mock you for fantasizing about something a little different. This is _me_ , and I love you. I want you to feel good.”

Spock let his eyes close in relief and nodded slowly, his nose brushing against Jim’s as he did so. 

“I love you as well, Jim,” he said softly. 

“I know,” came the response. There was no trace of cockiness in his voice, only love and understanding. “Now,” he said, leaning back once again but keeping his arms looped loosely around the Vulcan’s neck, “do you want to try it or not?”

“I… Would enjoy attempting this, yes,” Spock said, hesitating for just a moment before agreeing in what was, for him, a rush.

That earned him a quick nod, the flash of a grin, before Jim slid to his feet. He reached down to grasp at Spock’s hand, running his fingers over the Vulcan’s lovingly before pulling him to his feet and across the bedroom, through the living space and into the shared bathroom between their quarters. Spock understood his actions, but Jim still felt the need to explain as they came to a stop just outside of the large shower.

“I love you, Spock, and have no problem doing this,” he said, “but I would still rather not have my sheets smell like urine. I hope you don’t mind if we rinse off afterwards?”

“That is acceptable, Jim. I do not expect you to enjoy the scent as I do.”

“Thank you, Spock,” he said softly. “I’m sorry about not marking you for real. I just don’t think I could handle that much, yet, you know?”

“Again, Jim, it is acceptable.”

“Right. In we get, then!”

He stepped backwards into the stall, drawing Spock with until he hit the wall opposite the shower head with Spock pulled solidly against his front. He drew Spock into a slow kiss, closing his eyes in enjoyment as the Vulcan responded immediately, deepening the kiss and drawing his hands up to rest on the human’s hips. Jim let his hands wander, dragging his fingertips from as far down Spock’s legs as he could reach, up over the swell of his backside, across the planes of his back, to tangle lightly into the Vulcan’s thick hair. He tilted his head to the side, moaning into the kiss when Spock yanked his hips forward, grinding his already heavy and leaking erection into Jim’s hip. 

Jim pulled away from the kiss to pant softly over his lover’s lips, pleased at Spock’s reaction to the situation. He slipped one hand down to pet lightly at the other’s hardness, taking pleasure at the fluttering of his lashes and the soft noise that escaped his lips.

“You ready, Spock?”

In response, the Vulcan took a step back from him and knelt down in the center of the cubicle, his collarbone even with Jim’s half hard penis. Those brown eyes burned at the sight before Spock tilted his head backward to look up at his lover.

Jim gasped at the sight of Spock kneeling prone in front of him, his cock twitching a bit in interest at the excitement he saw in those eyes. He willed himself to calm down, though, reaching down to take hold of his cock and aiming it slightly downward, towards Spock’s chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the task at hand and not at the expression on Spock’s face, the knowledge that doing this would bring his lover pleasure.

The first stripe of warm liquid across his chest was a surprise to Spock and he actually jerked in shock at the feel of it. Then, as Jim’s eyes once again opened to look down at him, the small stripe turned into a steady stream of warmth that washed over his collarbone and chest, drawing a small groan of pleasure from the Vulcan. His eyes closed in rapture and his cock jerked in approval, his head tilting back further to expose more of himself to the stream.

Jim’s knees buckled at the sight of such obvious pleasure painted across his lover’s face. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he wanted to do this for Spock, to experience this with him, but seeing Spock’s reaction to being urinated on brought with it such a strong response in his own body that he simply couldn’t take it. 

Jim dropped to his knees in front of Spock, bringing their penises together as the last few spurts of urine left him, drenching both of their cocks and Jim’s hand as he gripped them both. Jim captured Spock’s lips once again with his own, drowning out the sharp moan that the feel of Jim’s urine drenching his penis had choked from Spock’s throat. The kiss was wild, desperate, as Jim jerked them both roughly, drawing noises he had never heard Spock make before through the Vulcan’s mouth in the breaks between his ravaging. 

It only took a handful of seconds before the knowledge of Jim using his own urine as lubrication to stroke them both brought Spock to his second orgasm of the night, the sensation ripping savagely through his body as he arched so sharply that he almost tumbled them over, his semen bathing Jim’s cock and hand in a parody of what had happened just a minute before. And, as the thought and sensation of Jim’s urine covering him had brought him to orgasm, so the thought and sensation of Spock’s semen covering him brought about Jim’s. 

As they knelt, leaning heavily against each other, panting through the aftershocks of their completion on the tile floor of the shower, Jim attempted to form a coherent sentence in response to their experience.

“We are _so_ doing that again. As many fucking times as we can stand it.”

“That would be acceptable, Jim.”


End file.
